Apple of my Eye
by Hermonthis
Summary: AU, AxI - Integral leaned forward in her chair, a lit cigar dangling from her mouth, and stared at Alucard. “You – former world heavyweight champion – want to fight again?” She emphasized the word ‘former.’ He grinned mischievously. “But why?”
1. House of Cards

A/N: Written over the course of the winter holidays when I spent my evenings listening to Badfinger, knitting furiously and watching The Contender. Yes, this is a bizarre concept. And yes, I love it.

**Apple of my Eye**

_Chapter One: House of Cards_

* * *

The lights almost blinded her. 

_This is the ring. There is only the ring._

It was a dream. It had to be. Integral Hellsing listened with rapt attention as her father ushered her through the green, metal doors and into the pitch black dark of the arena. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she made out the faint silhouettes of the spectator's seats, row after row, as they walked down the aisle to the ring.

_Two fighters. One championship belt._

Integral had never been in a real, high-profile arena before. Not the Las Vegas luxury hotel-variety type. She had only been to the local ones, the ones that smelled like well-used rope and old, brick walls. The ones that had wooden cabinets pressed up to the walls, a pane of glass protecting the trophies, belts, and photos of former boxing personalities of years past.

Somehow, within the expanse of a year, those photos always seemed so much older than they actually were. As if once put up on the wall, they immediately took on a heavy coat of dust and the colours faded out into sepia tones. A brown world. A newspaper world.

But here it was different. Arthur Hellsing closed his eyes. The arena held the essence of the adult world, and he could imagine the anticipation and the adrenaline as the seats were filled and the fighters and their entourage entered the stage.

Look, Integra. Look at the fighters.

She looked. She saw the white ropes, the clean canvas flooring, the microphone and the light boards that hung above the ring. There were cheap, metal chairs propped up in odd places just outside the ring, on the same level as the spectators, where Integral guessed a boxer's medical staff waited for the one minute break between rounds.

She saw the judges table. Three chairs.

_Do you see them?_

'Father, there is nobody there.' She answered, feeling quite confident that either her father was doing some wishful thinking, or she should wake up from this dream soon.

And then Integral looked up at her father, and saw that he had aged. No longer did his hair look as if someone had rubbed a balloon across it, it was smooth and flat and gray. His mischievous eyes had sad, puffy bags under them and his wrinkled forehead creased further into his brow.

'Father, you're old!'

He chuckled. Then he spoke. And Integral woke up suddenly in bed; the sheets rumpled around her body, and remembered that he was dead. He had been dead for a long time.

'Am I?'

* * *

The boxing world was rarely cruel to its fighters. It was a hard, tough and gritty life, but it was worth it. If you made it as a professional fighter, money, fame, and women came your way. You had the high life; you had the pay per view channels, you had contracts and challengers, you had Don King promote your fights. You had everything.

Then one day, you simply got old. You lost the lust to fight.

Alucard gazed at the trophy case, smiled, and walked away.

It was just the way of the world. A fighter can't compete all his life. Younger, fresher greenhorns who spoke foreign languages publicly challenged you on national sport networks, and you answered them with your own. You fought, and you trained. You hardly had a day of rest. One year off usually meant retirement. It was impossible to come back after three years. Only the best of the best did it.

And he used to be the best.

"You're leaving." Was all she said when she caught him staring at the far wall, plastered with newspaper clippings and shiny belts, and knew he had something important to say to her.

Integral Hellsing, fifteen and still in high school, smoothed out her skirt but didn't approach any further. Instead, she hung back near the door of the training room and waited while her father's best fighter reminisced about the past.

"When are you leaving?" She leaned on the wooden frame and watched him turned around to face her.

"Tomorrow." His voice was deadpan. "Flight leaves at 6:50 in the morning."

"You'll have to leave before sunrise."

"I know."

It was now that Integral stepped forward into the training room and looked at everything except him. The place smelled clean, newly washed, and the nose was left wanting. As if all traces of an athlete's sweat had disappeared.

She walked up to the wall of fame and her eyes fell upon a framed photograph of her father, grinning, with one arm around each of his champion fighters. Walter was old, Alucard looked much like he did now, and her father, Arthur Hellsing, was young. He died young.

She remembered that night as a little lonelier, the London rain a bit harder and but the feeling would remain the same. She remembered getting on the plane, Walter right behind her, and felt nothing but fear she flew over the Atlantic Ocean for the first time.

He remembered that evening as more sinister; the air smelled of excitement, anticipation, and blood. It was his championship fight, the last of the three major belts would have been his, and he would be the reigning heavyweight champion of the world. He would have won his seat on the hall of fame. He would have become immortal.

They met under a full moon that night, and she was beautiful. It was the first time they touched. In the privacy of her suite, he spoke with her. She hugged him and he cried. He promised a great many things. He promised to never fail her. He would remember. She would return to England the following day with a heavy heart. He planned to leave her within a month. That month went by so quickly.

He stepped up beside her. At six feet and seven inches, he towered over her.

"You still haven't told me why you're leaving." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He didn't reply immediately, just stood still and silent, deep in his own thoughts. His melancholy was depressing her.

"How was school today, Integra?" He inquired, lifting his voice a bit to obviously change the subject. She snorted, rolled her eyes and replied, "Fine." He let out a bark of laughter.

"Get good grades, finish school, continue the business." He recited.

"Stop sounding like my father, Alucard."

He became silent again.

"Where will you go?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Europe. Across the ocean. Anywhere."

"Will you go back home?" And there it was – a genuine smile on his face. She sighed to herself. The house felt lonely already.

"I left Wallachia in 1968. I haven't been back since then." He turned his head slightly to look down at her; Arthur's daughter was so short compared to him.

"There's so much I don't know about you."

Apparently, fifteen years and a month wasn't enough to know a person. Alucard was already a professional fighter with Hellsing's support when she was born. She had grown up with her father constantly flying off to different countries with his fighters. Then her mother died. She was still a child then.

Alucard left his country with his grandfather at the age of fourteen. She knew that from her father. He was thirty-eight now. She knew that herself. Not the oldest fighter to retire, but definitely one who was no longer in his prime. Perhaps it was time to back to his roots. Find a reason to fight again.

"I think I'll go home."

It would be seven years until they saw each other again.

* * *

August 15, 1992. 11:34 pm.

Integral Hellsing sat on the cream carpet in front of the television, the lights dimmed low with the glare of the screen reflected off her round glasses. In a ruffled summer dress she loved to wear, she hugged her knees and watched as her father yelled along with the entire spectators' crowd at the WBO's heavyweight championship fight.

She hugged her knees tighter, feeling a little cold as she watched her father shout advice while the fight progressed. He was in Las Vegas, at Caesar's Palace, and thousands of miles away from the family mansion. She watched silently as Arthur Hellsing slipped in through the ropes between rounds, said something to Alucard then squirted water all over his face before handing him a towel to dry himself off. The cameraman zoomed in close to the boxer, there was a cut around his lip and one of his eyes squinted, but he was grinning.

Grabbing the water bottle, he sloshed some water around his mouth and spat it out into the bucket, moving his jaw sideways where he had been recently hit. Arthur was still talking.

The bell rang again and Alucard popped in his mouth guard before getting onhis feet, hopping on one foot then the other. The referee beckoned for both fighters to come to the middle of the ring to start the next round.

Integral smiled at the television. She couldn't hear everything they said through the surrounding noise, but she knew that Hellsing was winning. Her father's and her grandfather's boxing school had churned out some amazing prizefighters, and there was no doubt that Alucard was one of them. She smiled even wider when the referee gave points to Alucard for landing an uppercut that made his opponent stumble backward.

His name hadn't always been Alucard. That had become his stage name after he won his first title belt as a professional. That was in England. He was just eighteen.

Born Vlad Tepes, the grandson of the legendary J.H. Brenner had taken on his family's fighting mantle and was makes waves in boxing history. With seventy-one bouts under his belt, one recorded loss, and no ties, the Wallachian fighter had the doors open to stand in with the greats such as Sugar Ray Robinson and Muhammad Ali. He needed to win this title, needed it see it in his trophy case next to the other two major title belts.

One cameraman moved outside the ring and Integra saw her father cross his arms with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He looked slightly ridiculous dressed in a crisp white suit, representing both his position as Alucard's manager, coach, and trainer, while everyone else around him wore track uniforms. His black coat hung over his chair, but like everyone who had the privilege of entering the ring, he stood. His wild, blonde hair was an strange phenomenon. It spiked up at odd angles in a natural manner and gave him what he liked to call 'a demonic and perverted aura.'

Of course, she wasn't supposed to know that.

Arthur tightened his gloved hands, brought them to his mouth, and shouted for Alucard to finish off his opponent already. There was alcohol waiting upstairs.

The cameraman switched, and the screen flickered. Integra blinked. Tenth round, one minute and nine seconds left.

Alucard's body was in a half-crouch, his hands positioned low along his belt line than to his chin, leaving his body open for attacks. He was waiting.

As expected, his opponent swung forwards, thinking Alucard had finally tired and lowered his defenses.

Integra watched. Stupid man.

And the crowd yelled when Hellsing's fighter ducked to the right, his upper body twisting to avoid the blow to his liver, and punched with his left glove.

_Bam._

It connected straight with his jaw. The crowd exploded with excitement.

One of the commentators swore aloud on public television. Integral laughed when the censors failed to catch his indiscretion in time and bleeped out something else entirely.

Then the lights flickered.

Then they went out completely.

There were gunshots. Someone screamed.

The emergency lights came on, bathing the arena in a dark red glow.

And Arthur Hellsing was dead.

Integral Hellsing remembered blinking in surprise and lunged towards the television, furiously pressing buttons to raise the volume to a deafening loudness that hurt her ears. The ring announcer was saying something. The cameras were going wild, her eyes sought out her father.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the fight has been stopped. The referee has signaled for both fighters to discontinue. Not a minute ago, several shots were heard."

The camera fell upon the fighters, the referee stood between them with his hands spread apart, indicating they were to remain in place. One man was down, his staff and crew hovered around him. She remembered the look on Alucard's face, his hands to his side, his focus no longer on his challenger, but on his trainer.

There was another crowd gathering just outside Alucard's corner.

The referee might have been small, but he was quick. He jumped down from the ring to assess the situation. The camera followed him.

Integral's pressed her small hands against the television, her eyes wide as the camera jiggled unsteadily with the strides of the cameraman and saw her father lying down on the floor, blood splattered over his white shirt.

"Hellsing has been shot. Alucard's longtime manager and trainer, Arthur Hellsing, has been shot!"

Pale hands trembled as she pressed her forehead against the screen, her throat tightening, as she stared at her father who needed her right now.

She ran barefoot across the hall and into the nearest kitchen where she knew there was a phone. She shouted for the only other person she knew to be in the house.

"WALTER! WALTER!"

Skidding across the tile floor, she gasped when she saw that he was already on the phone, the small television in the corner replaying the same scene she just watched seconds ago in the living room. Of course he had been watching - he was Alucard's predecessor to the Hellsing name.

"Walter." She whispered.

He held up a finger towards her to be silent as he spoke sharply and none too kindly to the operator on the other line, something about speaking with the man's superiors if he didn't get a line to Alucard immediately. To hell with boxing match, to hell with security, Arthur Hellsing had been shot, and it was the casino's fault for not providing enough security.

The next morning, the national newspapers, which often had a history of overlooking the world of boxing for other sports such as soccer or football, or for god's sakes, hockey, had a splash colour page of the bout and a two page cover story to go with it. For the next week, Walter would buy all the major influential newspapers, and give them to her to read. She looked at every one of them.

They would not show Arthur Hellsing's bleeding body. They would not show his face.

Arthur Hellsing had been shot several times in the chest. It only took the first one to claim his life.

Integral Hellsing and Walter C. Dornez used a private plane to fly to Las Vegas. Walter kept constant watch over the media and the phone lines as Integral Hellsing waited for news of her father. He was going to be safe, he was going to be fine; he would not leave his only daughter alone. He had a duty to protect her, he promised to teach her everything about boxing and when she was old enough, take her around the world to see the different places that he had traveled to with his prizefighters. He promised.

She could not lose another parent now.

"Miss Integra, Alucard wants to speak with you." Walter held out the phone to her. She snatched it up eagerly and cradled the receiver as if she were holding a small kitten. Taking a deep breath, she spoke. The fighter was more than just her father's moneymaker. He was a family friend. Bile rose in her throat.

"Alucard?"

"Integra." His voice was flat, unemotional. Almost in shock. Her mind raced. _Please don't tell me. Please don't tell me._

"My father-" she started to say.

"I'm sorry, Integral." His voice issued the words she dreaded to hear, "but your father's dead."

She would remember that night as one of the most awful plane rides in her life. The flight from England to Las Vegas stretched out forever, and the heavy London rain didn't help to raise her spirits. They couldn't get out of England fast enough, and if Walter wasn't there to comfort her, young Integral was certain that she would surely die from heartbreak.

He would remember waiting for her outside on the casino grounds. He was still wearing his red and black shorts, with only his red fighter's robe to protect him from the bright glow of the evening moon. Under different circumstances, it would have been such a lovely night.

She would arrive by helicopter, her face deathly pale and her eyes bloodshot from crying, jumping from the vehicle before Walter was able to give her a hand down. She wobbled a little unsteadily on the cement, a heavy coat around her shoulders despite the warm desert air, her yellow summer dress peeking out from the folds, and their eyes met.

And then she was swarmed by people: friends of her fathers in the boxing organization, the men who served as Alucard's seconds, the cameramen, casino security, they all crowded around her and threatened to drown her with questions until Walter placed one hand on the small of her back and the other in front of them, shielding her from further interrogation. But it was Alucard who whispered to her when nobody was looking.

"Stay close to me," he said.

"I will." She answered.

Those in charge of the bout and the hotel emptied out the arena as soon as possible before panic and confusion got out of hand. They had done a fair job, Walter would credit them with that, but he would never forgive them. It could have been prevented. It should have been.

The match had been cancelled; others said it had been postponed indefinitely. It was not wise to continue, the spectators and the officials feared for their safety, and either way, the hotel would lose money. The issues was to get them all out and into protection. The entire floor where the bout took place was closed off – no one was allowed to enter or leave without the accompaniment of two security personnel. They stopped the casinos. The whole building was placed under lock.

Richard Hellsing was arrested within the hour.

They met Hugh Islands inside, another family friend. He gave his deepest condolences to young Integra and was sorry he could not prevent this tragedy from happening. They shook hands, and then he was led off for questioning.

Integral Hellsing walked into the arena, flanked on her right and left by both Walter and Alucard, surrounded by the casino's security personnel as well as the police. As young as she felt, she did not reach for anyone's hand, she did not want anyone's sympathetic looks; she just wanted to look upon the body of her father. There would be time to look upon the face of his murderer later on.

It was her first time to enter a high-profile boxing ring while it was in session, so to speak. She had only visited the ones in London, the places that Alucard frequented for his sparring sessions when he was outside of the manor's training grounds. Her father gladly allowed his daughter permission to watch after school, and only when she was finished with her studies.

This place was much bigger. There was dirt between the rows and the spectator's seats, and the occasional coat was left on the floor. As the entourage walked down the aisle, she saw the white towels on the floor, the water bottles for the fighters, the stools that they sat on during breaks. The judges' table was cluttered with scorecards and water.

Integral knew why the ring was left this way. They still had to take pictures and samples of the crime scene.

"Integra." Her face turned towards Alucard's. "You don't have to do this." His face gazed down at her and she knew that he was sorry for her loss. Walter watched this small exchange. Who would protect Arthur's daughter now? Who would raise her and see her grow into a young woman? What would happen to the school? What would happen to Alucard now? Walter looked away.

But young girl smiled at Alucard, blinking several times to prevent her vision from getting misty. He didn't have to worry. Everything would be all right.


	2. Seven Years

**Apple of my Eye**

_Chapter Two: Seven Years_

* * *

"Good morning, Integra." 

"Good morning, Walter."

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" He watched her zip up her track suit and tie her long hair with a simple elastic band. Bending over to check her shoe laces were tightened enough, Integral stood up, checked her watch, and nodded towards Walter.

"Not yet. I'm going for a longer run today." Checking that she had her keys in one of her pockets, she pressed the security code on the mansion's alarm system and unbolted the kitchen door. Pulling it open a bit, a chilly autumn breeze entered the room. They were going to have an early fall this year.

"Very well. I shall keep some food warm for you when you come back." He bowed.

Integral opened the door and stepped outside to a dark green and brown landscape. It was five-thirty in the morning.

Her platinum blonde hair secured in a low ponytail, she jogged along the perimeter of the Hellsing grounds and on her breathing. She wore an olive green sweatshirt with blue pants, and her glasses started to fog up. The trees were large, looming shapes of black above her, and only when she passed them did they start to resemble their foliage. Most of them were green, but their dark green leaves drooped heavily with mist.

Integral didn't say hello when Alucard came up beside her, greeting her with a grin. She didn't acknowledge him.

"Morning, Integra." He added cheerfully.

"Morning."

"Beautiful morning for running. The cold air. The dark grounds. Almost gothic." He broke his stride to sweep one long arm over the path they were on.

"Yes."

He pouted. He knew she was in a mood. But he was in a mood to play.

"My master does not speak. Why doesn't my master acknowledge me?"

Integral exhaled, and a large puff of white smoke formed around her. Breathe, just breathe.

"Did I do something wrong? What ails my dear Integra?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she spoke without looking at him.

"You brought in a street urchin."

"My mistress speaks!" The delight in Alucard's voice disgusted her. All she wanted was to run in peace, was that too much? Up ahead, the path split into two. Smirking to herself; Integral chose the left path and Alucard, following her familiar route, turned to the right. She sped up to gain more distance between them.

"Why does a young girl bother you?" she heard him call out behind her. His footsteps quickened and soon he would be running alongside her again.

_Why?_ She thought. _It should be obvious._

"The girl's promising," he stated humourlessly, a frown appearing on his face. He didn't like it when Integral tried to escape him. Which had been increasing in frequency over the past few days. Which he would have to remedy immediately.

There was another crossroad coming up, with one path leading back to the house. Alucard nudged her body with his elbow and persuaded her to move to the right, thus prolonging their morning jog. Integral huffed a little harder, her face grew pinker, and decidedly became more annoyed with his presence.

"You picked her off the streets." She pushed back her bangs, the strands sticking to her forehead, and thwacked her jogging companion with her ponytail.

"She punched me in the face." He spluttered, her hair caught in his mouth.

"But you brought her home anyway."

"I thought you could be friends."

"She's not a boxer, Alucard. She's not staying."

"So you're not giving her a chance?"

"No."

One last crossroad. This time, Integral chose the path and elbowed Alucard in the ribs. She was heading home. Whether he followed her or not was not her concern. She quickened her pace to leave him behind.

"Integral." He heard her say. She didn't reply.

He raised an eyebrow. Dare he say it? Was Integral _jealous?_ Over what? Another potential boxer? A female boxer? A girl?

No. Another woman.

And Alucard laughed. He roared with laughter until his sides hurt and he had to stop jogging or else he would have cramps. He watched Integral disappear into the mist and head for the dark silhouette of the Hellsing manor. He was sure she heard him laughing, which most likely hurt her feelings, but the revelation was too amusing.

"Oh Integral," he chortled, between staggered breaths, "I could never replace you."

* * *

Walter knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds before he turned the knob and entered. As usual, Integral was at her desk reading the morning papers. 

"You're up later," he commented, "You usually have all the letters read before I bring you tea." Looking up, she smiled at him and cleared an area of her workplace to make room for the silver tray.

"I know. I slept in a bit." Walter frowned but she waved it off with a single white glove.

"Not getting overworked, are you?"

"No, just felt like it."

Smiling, the former prizefighter reached into his vest pocket and drew out a letter, dropping it into her curious hands. She noticed that it had a red seal. Not the cheap, stamped kind the post office used for regular letters. No, this one was made of wax and looked as if it had been stamped with an ornate ring.

"This came in this morning. Naturally, the seal intrigued me so I had to personally give it to you." Integral chuckled at Walter's curiosity and turned the letter over in her hands. It looked familiar. Walter's eyes sparkled mischievously. Rubbing a finger over the raised ridges, she broke the seal and took out the letter.

"Well?" Walter prompted, his anticipation getting the better of him. She could feel the sparks of excitement building in the air.

"Walter," she started, "Do you know what day it is?"

"Tuesday?" He feigned innocently.

"Yes, Tuesday. But is there something else I should know?"

"No."

"Don't lie."

He chuckled.

"It is your father's anniversary." He watched as Integral's shoulders slumped a little, and knew she was reliving the night her father died, seven years ago.

"But the letter isn't about that. It's from an old friend of mine." But before she could question why it was addressed to her and not to him, Walter held up a finger to his lips and motioned for her to open it.

Pursing her lips, she unfolded the letter, the crisp lines arousing her curiosity even more. Large, flowing lines of inked handwriting blinded her eyes for a moment, and Integral squinted to familiarize herself with the script.

Walter found it most amusing to watch her face. First, she was surprised, then confused. Then her face came closer to the paper to the point of becoming cross-eyed, her nose was pressed up to the page. He heard her mumble to herself, repeating the words 'he' had written for her. Walter closed his eyes, and smirked to himself.

_THWACK._ Integral smacked the paper down on the desk and stared hard at Walter, wanting his confirmation.

"Is it true?" He nodded. Integral took up the letter again and skimmed it, reading the words Alucard meant for her alone.

_I'm coming back._

The heavy wooden doors burst open, and Alucard, dressed in a sleek black suit and the strangest tie she had ever seen, barged in with a the widest grin on his face.

"Hello, Integra."

She remained in her chair, still holding the letter in her hand. She looked at his long, black hair, his yellow sunglasses, and his horrid eyeball-tie and opened her mouth.

"Bloody hell."

And just like that, he was back in her life again.

* * *

And within one week, he was giving her headaches. 

Inside her bedroom, Integral stripped off her jogging suit and stalked towards her private bathroom. Grabbing a towel from the rack, she tossed her underwear into the laundry basket and placed the towel on top of the hamper. Turning on the hot water, she stepped into the shower and poured shampoo into the palm of her hand, working up a lather to clean her hair.

Just like that. He was becoming a pain.

Integral turned around, the steam rising all around her, and let the water wash over her body.

What did she know about him? Not much, she supposed. Seven years can change a person. She certainly changed over seven years. She was twenty years old now, and a woman. The last time she saw him she was just becoming a teenager, for heaven's sake! He must be in his mid-forties now. He was so old. Perhaps the years didn't affect the aged as much as the young, maybe the long years to her was just a bat of the eye to him.

But why was she getting so worked up about him? He was just a friend, a former boxer under her family's school, and a friend of Walter's. Why all this attention now?

And her mind rushed to give her seven different answers all at once.

_Because he was your father's best fighter, because he's handsome, because you knew him, because you liked him, because he came back for you, because he held you the night your father died, because he promised to come back, because you wanted him to come back, because deep down, you wanted to show him just how much you've grown, and you want him to fight for you._

Integral groaned.

And now it looked like Alucard returned just for old time's sake.

But he was right about one thing, the girl he brought in yesterday, Seras, did have promise as an amateur boxer. She was short and well built in the chest area (a rather big disadvantage to female boxers) but she had spirit. She allowed the girl to spar with Alucard and was understandably surprised when she held up her own for several minutes.

She lacked the footwork, but Integral could see the firepower behind the fists. Hellsing never had a female fighter before, boxing for women was still considered taboo, but here was an opportunity to change tradition.

Integral watched Alucard goad his new street kitten, mocking her, making her punch harder in frustration before she eventually tripped over her feet and fall on her face. He laughed at her some more, hurting her pride and making tears well in her wide, blue eyes.

He turned his gaze over to Integral. "We'll keep her, shall we? Don't bother with a trainer, I'll teach her myself."

The hot water on her face helped bring Integra back to reality. She worked the soapy sponge over her body and rolled her shoulders back, hoping to relieve some tension there.

That's right. Two days ago Alucard appeared at her office and requested she interview someone. That someone happened to be a woman about the same age as her, although her friendly smile and dimpled cheeks made her seem younger than she probably was. There were bruises on her arms and some scratches on her face, but other than that, she seemed to be all right. Curious and confused, but fine.

That evening they argued over the fate of Seras Victoria. She lived in a small apartment by herself, and worked at a small diner in one of the shadier parts of London. Alucard happened to be walking past the diner when he heard noises in the adjacent alleyway, and found some miscreants harassing her and making lewd jokes about her breasts while the girl was just trying to throw the trash into the garbage bin.

Later, he told Integral that he was impressed with her punches. That he had gone to help her, and she ended up attacking him as well, thinking he was one of them.

Shutting off the faucet and stepping onto the bath mat, she wrapped the thick, yellow towel around her body and tousled her hair with one hand.

Alucard already expressed his desire to train the girl. He was overjoyed to have a pupil again, his lips curled up menacingly, thinking of all the training exercises and routines he would have to put her though.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," said Alucard.

"No. I'm busy right now."

"I want to talk to you." He urged. The handle squeaked and Integral knew that if she hadn't locked the door, he would be halfway inside her rooms already.

"Not now, Alucard," she sighed wearily. "I just got out of the shower." There was a grateful pause, then,

"Are you dressed?"

Why was he so persistent? "No. I'm in a towel."

"So let me in." Screwing her eyes tight, Integral focused on her breathing. She could get though this, she could. He was just a friend – Lord, he was so old! Twice as old as her! – They were just acquaintances and nothing more.

"In a _towel_, Alucard. Are you deaf?"

"You're not _naked_, Integral. Let me in." The handle rattled with the sounds of Alucard trying to open the door. It shook and creaked and made sounds that a door certainly wasn't supposed to make. Clutching the towel around her body, she hurried barefoot to the door and held the doorknob from shaking further. If he continued, he'd break it down!

"Are you trying to break down my house?" she shouted.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he answered back, rattling the handle furiously that Integral had to turn her back to the door and push to make sure it stayed closed.

"I'm wet, naked, and mad, that's why!"

"And I'm tired and sweaty and want to talk!"

"GO AWAY!"

Alucard scrunched up his nose, released the door and took several paces back. Well, if she was going to play stubborn, he'd show her. He wasn't the jackass of the boxing world for nothing. He could make young girls cry, grown men beg for mercy, and he certainly would not take any crap from this young Hellsing.

"I'M COMING IN." he bellowed before charging at the door, heaving through it with his shoulder. With a nasty _CRACK_, the lock broke and he stumbled into Integral's bedroom, falling backwards in surprise as Integral hastily clutched at her towel and hurried away from his outstretched hands.

He fell on his rump in a heap of wood and curses.

"That hurt." He would have to see Walter later to remove some of those splinters.

"Hello, Alucard." Integral hovered over him with a stony look on her face. If it wasn't for her tone of voice, he might have appreciated the view from the ground. But he did note that she had some lovely, defined calf muscles.

"Good morning, Integral."

"What did you want to speak to me about? Seeing that you broke down my door and my privacy, it must be very very important." The sarcasm was not lost on him.

"It's about Police Girl," he started, but stopped when he saw the confused look on her face. "Police Girl – Seras Victoria." The frown on Integral's face did not loosen up at all.

"So, two days and you gave her a nickname already?" He shrugged and muttered something about that being a dream of the girl's. It wasn't his fault if he didn't happen to have a moniker for Integral, she didn't like having nicknames as a teenager. It irritated her to no end, so why give her one now?

"What was that?" she pressured him, kicking him in the side with one bath-scented foot.

"I said you never liked nicknames when you were younger," he growled, picked himself off the ground and dusted the splinters from his arms. Surprised, Integral's eyes lighted up momentarily at his statement, and he caught it. Hah! So she thought he didn't remember those little things about her? Rubbish.

"Anyways, before you barged in undignified –"

"I want Seras Victoria to move into the mansion, like a proper student of Hellsing. I want her to quit her job so she can train full time." He shushed Integral with a finger before continuing, "And I want to move back in too, into my old rooms I had. Walter knows where they are. I can train her, Walter will train her, and Pip Bernadette will train her." He removed his fingers from her lips just enough for her to say a few words.

"Pip Bernadette?"

"Former student of your father's. He's around your age, maybe older. Retired early due to injuries."

"I remember him," she retorted. He grinned.

"Deal is she moves in, and I move in." Integral would have crossed her arms, but remembered her state of undress and only tightened her hold on the towel.

"And why would I do that?"

He smirked. "Why, to be closer to you, my dear Integra. You think that after seven years I haven't noticed how much you've grown? That I haven't seen how you run this organization with efficiency and pride? Coming back to the Hellsing manor is like coming home after a long journey." He bowed his head towards her and she scoffed.

"You haven't changed at all, Count." Thinking quickly, she added, "How was Wallachia?" Alucard shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

"Fine. The cities changed, the country hasn't. I thought I would find something there. Find my home. Dig into my family roots, discover who I was."

"Well, did you?"

And he smirked at her. "Yes and no."

And Integral was left clutching a towel and staring at a broken bedroom door.


End file.
